


Something Money Can't Buy

by geewizzle, kikorangi



Category: Gotham (TV), Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Peaky blinders meets Gotham, Romantic shit, a deal that will be worth so much more than money, alternative universe, ed is mentioned, give oswald a boyfriend he deserves, mafia shit and business meetings, nygmobblepot mentioned, oswald being a nervous embarrassing twink, set somewhere in the 20s/30s, the couple that deserves each other, the two most beautiful characters on tv, tom being charming as always, tv show cross over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geewizzle/pseuds/geewizzle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikorangi/pseuds/kikorangi
Summary: Set in an alternative universe after season 4 of both Gotham and Peaky Blinders, crime lords Oswald Cobblepot and Thomas Shelby meet at the Iceberg Lounge to discuss a business deal that will enrich both men greatly. However, as the evening progresses, with stakes high and the pressure of impressing one another being even higher, things begin to escalate from formal to very flirtatious.Oswald, still pining after a friend to keep himself company during lonely nights, may have finally found a man he can trust and possibly even love.





	Something Money Can't Buy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a lil different bc its a cross-over fic, but even if you haven't seen PB before I tried to give this fic as much context as it could you you wouldn't have needed to watch the show to understand it (tho I would highly recommend it). This came from Cyan and I yelling about how Gotham NEEDS to give Oswald a solid good man as a boyfriend in season 5 and then thinking that Thomas Shelby from PB would be the perfect fit. A dream couple honestly, just look up Cillian Murphy's Tommy Shelby and you'll see just why Oswald needs a man like that. Give this one a go and give us your thoughts so far! This will be put into 2 parts :)

His sapphire cuff links fell onto the vanity top as he shook his sleeves loose. He swiftly acquired a slim cigarette from his breast pocket and held it to his soft lips. He lit it with strategy and precision. A terrible habit it was to smoke, but Thomas Shelby had become partly known for how stealthily and how often he lit up the tobacco stick. It was a vulnerable movement that suggested signs of the gangster's stress and hesitancy to his enemies.

Though in that moment, Thomas Shelby was alone in his dark dining room, pale moonlight illuminating the furniture and the sides of his face in blues and whites. The Autumn air was cool and his son Charlie was asleep in his own bedroom down the hall. Tommy inhaled the thick clouds as he closed his eyes, completely devoting his body to the act. He felt part of his soul mellow and then dissipate as his lungs exhaled. He wasn't smoking that Autumn night due to apprehensive stress or tension towards what was soon to come. He had no bad blood currently rushing within the rival Birmingham gangs or any of the other gangs in Britain for that matter. After defeating New York's Italian Mafia and their mission to eliminate the Shelby family, Tommy only had one business conquest left to pursue.

He needed to regain his status and trust with the American gang empires if he were to continue to legitimise Shelby Company ltd. However, there was only one underworld king in the east-coast of the United States that Tommy considered to be worth searching an alliance with. Oswald Cobblepot (or more notoriously known as 'The Penguin'), the gangland ruler of Gotham city, had made himself something of a whispered rumour as his ability to be both Major and leader of Gotham's underworld was something both unheard of as it was equally impressive. Once Tommy heard about the gangster's high status and influence on the U.S's most corrupt and glamorous city, the desire to work with him sparked.

If Tommy were able to make a name for his company in Gotham city, he would have almost no trouble legitimising it across the states and gaining the trust of both public officials and gang lords alike. Though he had heard of course, Cobblepot's company was only partly legitimate, as was Tommy's, if not for his infamous and exclusive 'Iceberg Lounge'. Tommy was however impressed that Cobblepot was able to maintain a villainous public profile whilst being considered a legitimate businessman.

He tried his best to ignore the rumours of Oswald's sporadic and impulsive temper outbursts and how he was not apposed to committing plain murder if a business deal could not meet mutual terms. He was aware that proposals in Gotham city were rarely made outside of the Island's borders, and for good reason. The so called Batman. A violent vigilante who had a wish to end organised crime in the city and had no jurisdiction outside of it. Not to mention, the New York Italian mafia were still after his head. His appearance in Gotham city had to be inconspicuous.

But, Tommy had made plenty of deals beyond British waters before, and he had seen enough horror and devastation in his life that we was immune to the thought of a masked man trying to stop him.

With that thought, Tommy quickly snuffed out his cigarette and proceeded towards the bedroom in hope of getting a good nights rest, before boarding towards Gotham the next morning.

-

Oswald Cobblepot slammed his crystal whisky glass down on the counter. He was entirely alone in the Iceberg Lounge, save for the record playing sombrely. Indigo and sapphire hues danced around the club marrying in with the soft glow of candlelight. Oswald observed the glimmer of the crystal chandeliers and the velvet drapes as they reflected the cool lighting.

They shined brilliantly, and yet he felt so dim. He downed another glass, repeating the same motion of harshly slamming his empty glass on the counter top with an obnoxious thud, before letting out a lowly sigh.

Not unlike previous moments, Oswald felt alone as he remembered once again there was no one in his city that he could truly rely on. Not after the final betrayal of Edward Nygma, the man he had so desperately pined after only to have his feelings exploited and his empire ruined. There was no one that truly interested Oswald in the slightest, no one he considered worthy of intelligent conversation or pleasurable company. All he had were the mindless cronies who worked for him and though Oswald was quite happy with having thugs to answer his every beck and call, he wanted a friend.

He knew that he wasn't suggesting his meeting tomorrow with the British gangster to be disguised as Oswald's attempt at making friends. He was aware that to think of the business meeting as anything other than diplomatic was foolish and frankly, pathetic. But yet he had heard many great things about Thomas Shelby. About how he was a decorated war hero, once had a wife who gave birth to their son, had grown his family business from the ground up and had a thirsting ambition that very much resembled Oswald's own. So, he couldn't deny that he was holding onto a sliver of hope that Mr. Shelby would take some liking to him when they meet. 

Oswald had received a handwritten letter (as opposed to typewritten) from Thomas 'Tommy' Michael Shelby M.P. OBE, The leader of the infamous crime gang 'Peaky Blinders' from Birmingham, England a month prior. He was proposing a gambling deal uniting the Shelby Company ltd. with its presence in the 'Iceberg Lounge'. Oswald was well aware of how Thomas Shelby had risen his family's criminal legacy through gambling by horse racing and became quite endeared to the idea of incorporating the sport into being a feature of his club. Tommy had included still photographs of the many horse racing events to give Oswald a more effective visualisation of the events being gambled in the Iceberg Lounge. The luxurious costuming of the women and men drinking high class liquor whilst watching the horses race was more than enough to sell the idea to Oswald. Though gambling was illegal in Gotham, that didn't fret Oswald's ambitions away in the slightest as nothing illegal ever really did. The news of gambling horse races would do more than attract the attention of Gotham's elite, as it would give them more opportunities to win money and shallowly boast about their winnings and make a pretentious night out from it. All the while, Tommy would teach Oswald how to exploit their winnings and make money off of the suckers for himself.

Shortly after reading through Mr Shelby's letter, Oswald used the telephone to call the number that was scripted in the bottom-right corner of the paper. A rough but velvety English accent made itself known to Oswald's ear after a few failed attempts at calling, and the two gang leaders agreed to meet in person to discuss business further.

Oswald slouched off the bar stool to silently snuff out the candles and turn off the record player, leaving the lounge in bitter darkness. He ascended towards a car outside with his driver waiting to take him home. 

 

-

Oswald didn't have the faintest clue of why he was so nervous. His palms continued to moisten much to his distaste, and he couldn't seem to fix his hair to his liking. He grumbled in frustration as he struggled to put together an outfit that made him look both powerful and debonair. Garments of ebony, crimson and indigo were being hurdled across the room in all directions, as if the materials had a life of their own. Nothing seemed to work for Oswald's eccentricity and stylish flair. 

"Why is it so hard to find something to wear!" he bellowed at no one in particular.

He was alone in his bedroom but could hear the frantic pattering of his maids and servants feet outside the door. He knew that fashion advice from any of his hired help would be fruitless so he dismissed the thought with a irritable sigh. He couldn't help but admit to missing Edward Nygma's assistance when Oswald had tried on outfits for special events, such as his dinner that night with Mr Thomas Shelby. Edward could always match three-piece suits and accessories perfectly and in a way that complimented Oswald's own natural features, such as his blue eyes and raven hair. Though Oswald was quite skilled in styling himself, he did appreciate the added help when his mind was elsewhere. He pushed the sullen memory of Edward away as quickly as he grasped a amethyst shirt from his dresser, finally finding a piece that he took a liking to. 

He matched the shirt with a black velvet two-piece suit, one that had been stored in his wardrobe for quite some time, a dark purple pocket square, onyx crystal cuff links and edwardian styled shoes. He took a glance at himself in the mirror, trying his best to ignore his atrocious mess of black hair that sat on his head and gave himself an accepting nod. Though Oswald was a man of great confidence and status, sometimes, particularly when he was preparing to meet people of such status that complimented his own, he could't help but feel slightly insecure.

Oswald had heard many things about Mr Thomas Shelby, and he wanted anything but for his dinner meeting with him to turn sour. He needed absolute perfection and succession from his staff. His extravagant lounge needed to impress Mr Shelby if he were to agree to entrust Oswald with his company's name in Gotham city. The night had to go completely according to plan, failure was not an option.

Oswald ran his hand through his hair at a final attempt to tame it but grumbled once again as it continued to flair out disobediently.

"Zsasz!" The notorious and grumpy Penguin called out to his personal assassin. The taller man walked through his bedroom door a few moments later with a questioning look, wondering what on earth Penguin could want from him now.

"What's up boss?" he asked, taking note of all the clothes that littered in piles on the floor around him.

"Do that thing you know how to do with my hair! I can't seem to get it to behave" Oswald instructed as he sat down on his bed.

Zsasz nodded with a smile, obediently sitting on the bed next to his boss and taking the comb that he was holding out for him.

"Do you want it fluffy or ruffly?" he asked, as he began combing through Oswald's tangled locks.

Oswald rolled his eyes at Zsasz's puerility.

"Is there a difference?" he snapped.

"Yeah" Zsasz answered flatly, "see if you want fluffy, then I have to take a section at the front and-".

"Fine! Fluffy then!" Oswald interjected, growing more irritated. He only had a few hours until his dinner with Mr Shelby. Time was beyond precious if he were to make the meeting a success.

"Just be quick, I have a lot that still needs to be done for tonight" he told his assassin. "Have you made sure that the lounge is all cleaned up and tight on security?"

"Yep, it should be all perfecto. But why are you so tense, boss? This is just some dude from England, if it goes bad it goes bad. There will be other business deals".

Oswald huffed once more at Zsasz's naivety, feeling a migraine creep into his skull.

"Tonight is not a frivolous dinner meeting, Victor. This is Mr Thomas Shelby. A highly decorated business man who is both admired and feared by all crime families in his home country, but also this side of the country. There was news that the Peaky Blinders, the name of his gang, had successfully defeated the New York Italian mafia only some months ago. If were to gain friendly relations with Mr Shelby, the Italians would bow down to me out of fear and respect. I would have the crime families all across the coast at my mercy and disposal", he told Zsasz as he added the final touches to his hair.

"This is a man that deserves nothing but excellence. His proposal to establish a gambling ring in the lounge under the Shelby Company name will be what I need to finally gain reverence from the Italians".

"All done!" Zsasz announced, putting the comb away and finishing Oswald's hairdo with a touch of hairspray to keep it in place. Oswald glanced over to the mirror beside him, inspecting the work Zsasz had done. His hair flared out on either side emulating the shape of a bird's crest, just how Oswald liked. His bangs had been swooped to the side and curled inwards to delicately frame his face. He gave a thankful nod to Victor before dismissing him.

"Good luck tonight, boss. Just remember to be yourself, don't be too stiff or demanding. Actually in that case, be anything but yourself!" Zsasz advised as he began walking towards the bedroom door.

"Your advice is greatly appreciated, Victor" Oswald rebutted with utter sarcasm, as he went to cleaning up the discarded clothes.

Victor then turned, looking down at Oswald but this time with sincerity.

"Just, try to relax. If you want this to work out, and if you want to gain his friendship, you need to try and enjoy yourself and not take everything so seriously".

Oswald felt taken back by Zsasz seeing through his own transparency. Had he really made himself out to be so desperate for a friend? Did he really seem almost as lonely as he felt?

"Who said I wanted his friendship?" Oswald barked back, attempting to hide his knowing thoughts.

"I know you still miss Nygma, we all know. It makes sense for you to want someone else to take his place".

Zsasz then strode out the door before Oswald could respond, leaving him dumbfounded. 

 

-

Although generally calm, Thomas Shelby has indeed had moments where stress gets the best of him. He was on the way to meet his cousin and accountant Micheal, in New York. Though his voyage was heading across the Atlantic in one direction, his journey took around 10 or so days. So, during that time, Thomas spent most of his days mentally preparing for his upcoming meeting.

He thought about his aunt Polly advising him not to go, fearful that the Italians in New York would hear of Thomas alone and unarmed in their territory. They were still pissed at the Blinders of course, and Polly made it clear to Tom about going to New York was the exact opposite of what he should have been doing. 

"For god's sake Tommy, you may as well be pissing in their front yard!" he remembered her saying, arms raised in disbelief. 

He knew she meant well, but surely she'd have realised by now that he could keep matters both in and outside of the family business under control. So far, he had legitimised the Shelby name and business within less than 5 years. Surely, he could take care of one measly meeting.

But there was a reason for his chain smoking and slight reservations. This was a big deal to him. Expanding out to Gotham was a challenge that he planed to excel at. He needed to win over Oswald Cobblepot, a man renown for his entrusting and hot tempered nature. Thomas had tackled a lot of difficult clients in his time running the family business, but when he thought about this deal, he felt his gut clench. He'd been working tirelessly to perfect his speech, his statistics, his paperwork; even the shine on his shoes. Gotham was a brand new territory that Thomas intended to bring the Shelby name to- no matter the cost.

He wandered through the ship with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and both hands firmly in his pockets. Walking from his room on the top floor, down an impressive staircase covered in soft, red velvet carpet, into the common lounge room. The room was littered with men and women of a high sophistication wearing gowns and suits of top end fashion and smooth fabric. The brown leather couches were occupied by couples of all shapes and sizes doing their private business in plain public, and the room was covered in a thick cloud of cigarette smoke.

He ignored the sounds of moans and cocaine snorting surrounding him. He walked straight past them without even a glance of interest. He had too much on his mind to think about either of those activities. He had Oswald Cobblepot on his mind. 

Strolling out onto the deck, the stars above him glistened amongst the moonlight. Thomas lit his cigarette and discarded the match into the ocean below. The ship rocked as it glided through the water and, although he'd travelled by boat before, sailing across the Atlantic was a long voyage for Thomas and he couldn't help but feel sick. He was not used to the long days and cold winds and the constant side to side motion. He took in a long breath and blew out the smoke slowly. As it became part of the atmosphere, he thanked God that this was his last night on the cruise.

The next day Micheal greeted him at the docks with a smoke in his mouth and a smile on his face. It was a crisp winter morning, but the cold felt different in New York- here, the sun shined without a cloud in sight to block the warmth. The people he walked past weren't dressed to their eyeballs in coats and scarfs and furs. Here, the world looked yellow without the factory smog clouding the shining rays. Thomas allowed himself a deep breath and a smile before the two cousins left for Micheal's house. 

It was only a short walk from the docks to where Micheal was staying, and Thomas was eager to sit down and distress himself for a moment. Micheal poured him a glass of whiskey and sat on the opposite side of his desk- for once, Micheal was at the head- and they both lit a smoke.

"Your place is nice." Thomas stated plainly. Micheal couldn't help but scoff.

"No it's not. The wallpaper is coming off and the toilet doesn't flush." Michael took a sip of his whisky, "You would know anyway, you bought it". 

"Alright, well, I like your desk then." Tommy mused, glancing at all the fine papers and felt tip pens that littered the hardwood desk. He tapped on the table with one finger out of his right hand. The drink he was holding in the same hand sloshed around, and the smoke in his mouth let out small clouds as the words came out of his mouth. 

Michael smirked, all knowing of Thomas' anxiety. 

"We don't have to make small talk, Tommy. I know you just wanna get straight into business."

Tommy replied with a flat "Good", and though his voice was nonchalant, he had an expectant gaze on his face. Micheal immediately stood up to show his plans and papers to his boss. 

That was Tommy's ultimate weapon. He was cunning and calculating, so words and expressions fell into his lap and were easy to manipulate. He need only to say the right words and with the right tone and the right gaze, and anyone would do anything for him.

Grace was different. She was a challenge. She was his personal challenge and that he wanted to work on for the rest of their lives. Now she nothing but flesh in the dirt.

Micheal opened a book and got straight into his plan for the Gotham deal. He proposed that they build the track for £15,000 and supply 3 of the horses, and then ask for 40% of all proceedings. Thomas should offer 10 men to work security on race days for £40 per person per day. He explained that this way, if interest peaks up, and as Michael convinced it would, they would make a profit of £437,300 every year, assuming Penguin can keep a quota of 15,000 bets a month.

"The first month will be a bit rocky, but things should perk up soon after that." Michael assured his cousin, snuffing out his cigarette with his empty whiskey glass. 

Thomas looked at the plans and notes on the desk in front of them. Although he was already excited to start in Gotham, the promise of £437,300 a year from the city put a smile on his face. After talking through more logistics, Thomas shook his cousins hand and they set off to buy a suit.

Another trait that Thomas had, but tended to hide quite well, was his obsession over looking a certain way. The Peaky Blinders had an expectation to live up to, through both manner and fashion. They need to look both cultivated and intimidating, and both of these were expressed by their posture, their words, and their clothes. Tommy had always been particular about buying a new suit, but this deal was important, he had to dress the part. Not only did Thomas have £437,300 on the line, but he wanted to make a good impression on Oswald.

He'd heard about the mans grace and articulation, his preference for high quality and extravagant pleasantries. Sure, he'd also heard about his tendency to loose his temper, and infamous murder count, but was that really so unlike Tommy's reputation? 

Tommy wasn't usually interested in the clients he met. They were just another client with a bad attitude, fake confidence, and too much money for what they were truly worth. But, in order to get what he needed, Tommy would sit through the bullshit and the humbug nonsense if it meant walking out of there a richer man with more territory and respect. 

But Oswald- he hadn't sound like the same kind of man Tommy had dealt with before. He seemed like he had something interesting to say. With opinions and ideas and fucking common sense. He had potential worth exploring, and Thomas wanted to see it for his own eyes.

The tailor ran around Thomas with a pen and measuring tape. Micheal sat on a chair, watching the man fuss over his older cousin, and Thomas himself stared absently into the mirror.

"Time." Thomas asked without asking. 

Micheal sighed and looked at took out his gold pocket watch.

"4:42 Tom, only 6 minutes later than last time you asked" he answered with a roll of his eyes, taking in a long drag of his smoke and letting the small clouds fall out of his mouth.

Thomas did not look away from the mirror, nor answer. He rubbed his forehead with his eyes closed and his head down.

"How much longer?" He looked at the little Italian man fussing at his ankles.

"I just need to fix a few things, and then you're done. I will be only 15 minutes- please sit and wait." He whipped the tape off of Thomas's leg and shuffled to the back room.

Tommy sat down on the block he was standing on in only his drawers and socks. He lit yet another smoke and rubbed his forehead again, trying to ease himself of frustration. Michael couldn't help but notice his cousin's fidgeting, it was starting to piss him off. 

"What are you so stressed about mate? It's just another deal innit'?" Michael asked. 

Tommy let out an agravated sigh, not entirely sure on how to answer his cousin. 

"Another deal with a lot of money of the line" he reflected, stealing another cigarette from Michael as it was handed to him.

"Yeah, but you've done plenty of high risk deals with more money than this and been fine. What's the real problem?" Michael challenged, lighting Tommy's smoke. Tommy gave the younger man a stern look. Not that Micheal was expecting an answer, Thomas decided to give him one anyway.

"He's just- he's different. We've written to each other a few times and he's smart and educated-" he trailed off, without realising it. 

"And a bit fuckin' psycho." Micheal muttered under his breath.

Tommy gave Michael another stern glance. "Yeah, but that's not the point. Curly is a bit fuckin' psycho too but he's important and sometimes he has something important to say." 

"What's your point, Tom?" Michael challenged once more, confused of where Tommy was going with this. Though he had only known his cousin for a couple of years since reuniting with Polly and becoming initiated into the family business, Michael had seen all sides of Tommy. He was the one person who Tommy trusted the most with his money and dealings, and to see this side of Tommy, one that was unreserved and dare he say it, vulnerable was foreign to Michael. 

"I'm saying that tonight is high stake because this guy is smarter than the other crooks I do business with and if I can't get my fucking suit right I'm going to loose my shit." He let out a long exhale as he watched the smoke dancing above his head. Micheal snickered a few times, finally seeing where Tommy's angle was.

"Didn't know this meant so much to you Tom" he said with another smirk. 

"What?" Tommy asked, almost defensively. 

"Seems like this guys pretty important to you. aye?" Michael teased, teeth showing in his smile.

"Fuck off." Tommy sputtered, shoving the back of Michael's chair. He wanted to be angry, but Micheal's laugh caught on and he couldn't help but let out a silent smile.

The tailor ran back in not long after with a suit and dressed Thomas. It was a navy blue number with royal blue stitching coming through the seams. It made him almost feel regal, as the mixture of blues brought out the sparkle of Tommy's icey blue eyes. The tailor stood back and let him smooth off the suit himself. He ruffled his hair for a moment, pulled his cuffs, flattened the lines on his chest, and fixed his golden pocket watch. 

"Micheal, pay the man." Tommy instructed, eyes glued to his reflection as his cousin handed the small man a wad of cash.

"Uh- this is too much!" the tailor insisted, walking over to Thomas to try and give some of the money back. The taller man put a hand on the tailors hands and shook his head.

"The suit is worth it. Thank you." With only a nod and a smile, Thomas walked out of the shop with Micheal in tow. 

They got into Micheal's car which was parked outside the store, and began setting off for Gotham city. Thomas took out his pocket watch to quickly glance at the time once more, - 5:00. They had an hour and a half to get to Gotham.

"Faster." Thomas ordered to which Micheal smiled at, and didn't hesitate to put his foot down on the accelerator as hard as he could. 

The drive to Gotham was uninteresting, but the city itself was beautiful. Although not as sunny and warm as New York, it had a warmth of its own. There was a sense of personality to that city that reminded him of Birmingham. 

Coming up to the Iceberg Lounge, there was a long line of eager men and women waiting to dine and drink in the infamous lounge. Micheal parked across the road and waited for instructions from Thomas.

"Don't wait up. I'm not sure how long I'll be here for. Get a hotel room, stay low. We don't need the Mafia knowing we were here." Tommy ordered, opening the car door. 

"So why did you see an Italian tailor that you knew was working for the mafia?" Michael smugly asked as he turned the gas back on. 

Once he was out of the vehicle, Tommy simply turned to Michael to answer him "Bigger picture, Micheal." And with that, Tommy took out a cigarette and began to make his way towards his business meeting. 

 

-

 

Oswald perched himself upon a bar stool as he friskily downed a cocktail prepared by his lounge's skilled bartender, waiting for the news of Mr Shelby's arrival. He twiddled his fingers on the bar's crystal mantle top, trying to silence his frantic mind. 'Everything has to be perfect', he kept telling himself, going over his internal checklist of what he was going to discuss with Mr Shelby. Friendly conversation to start, get themselves comfortable with each other so they could then ease into the talk of business and then finish with a friendly goodbye. It was simple, methodical, but easily achievable.

His staff had prepared a table for two in a darkly lit corner of the lounge, away from other patrons so the two gangsters had their privacy. Oswald had requested a renowned chef from the United Kingdom to prepare the two men their dishes. He was unsure of what Mr Shelby would like so he insisted that the chef he hired was able to cook practically anything that an Englishman could possibly request. A small candle was also lit in the middle of the table. Though some may have considered the item a romantic gesture, Oswald had put it there to help soothe himself, as candlelight often did. 

Zsasz suddenly appeared in the Lounge's back entrance, approaching Oswald with a smug look.

"Boss, Shelby should be here any moment. Do you need me to stay back and hold your hand?" he asked with a chuckle.

Oswald's expression quickly turned from reserved to flustered upon hearing the news of Thomas Shelby's arrival, not even regarding Zsasz's remark.

"Uh, okay just give me a moment!" He muttered, finishing his cocktail in one obnoxious gulp and quickly rose from his stool to meet Zsasz by the main entrance.

The doorman opened the two large padded doors, revealing a tall, neatly dressed man at its entrance.

Oswald couldn't help but stare back at the man in complete admiration over his appearance. He didn't previously have a photo of Mr Shelby to reference his appearance, so Oswald never knew what the man looked like. But the man who stood proudly and strong before him, was more beautiful than he could have ever anticipated. Thomas wore a navy blue suit with a solid gold pocket watch fitted into his jacket, his mousy brown hair short at the sides but long and loose at the top. A half lit cigarette hung in his mouth, suggesting to Oswald that he had been smoking while he was making his way towards the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald traced his eyes to the sharpness of Thomas's jaw, his Adam's apple and mixture of soft almost feminine facial features juxtaposing with rough masculine aspects of the man's face. Though they stood some metres apart, Oswald felt himself become lost in the pure icy blue of Thomas' eyes.

"Evening, Mr. Cobblepot", Thomas greeted at the doorway, after giving Oswald a thorough look up and down. 

"Boss?" Zsasz spoke up once Oswald failed to reply, snapping him out of his awkward trance.

"Oh!" Oswald gasped, blushing his own embarrassment. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Shelby!"

Thomas nodded with a small smile. He took an observant look around, silently admiring the lounge's extravagant and meticulous interior decorating.

"A welcome place you have here Mr. Cobblepot" Tommy complimented, before moving over towards Oswald to shake his hand. 

"Oh, thank you!" Oswald blurted, before returning the hand shake.

"You okay Boss? You're shaking like a leaf" Zsasz asked, pointing out just how nervous and fidgety Oswald was appearing. The shorter man cursed himself for not dismissing Zsasz sooner before he embarrassed himself any further in front of Mr. Shelby.

"Victor, why don't you make yourself useful and help escort our other lounge patrons to their booths?" Oswald ordered, with a forced smile.

"Okie dokie" Zsasz replied, walking to the front of the club to help the bouncer inspect the finely dressed patrons as they entered the lounge. 

Oswald could then feel Thomas' eyes gazing down at him, waiting patiently.

"Shall we?" He asked with a blush, escorting Thomas to the table for two in the centre of the room.

"I'm not exactly sure what you have heard of me, Mr. Cobblepot" Thomas began as he sat down in the chair opposite Oswald.

As Oswald too got into his seat, he held up a dismissive hand at Tommy's formality.

"Oswald, please", he added with a smile.

"Oswald", Tommy corrected, "But I can assure you I'm not as scary or as bad of a man as you might be fearing".

Oswald let out a small laugh at the other man's reassurance. Yes, Oswald was quite terrified in that moment, but not of Mr. Shelby. It was out of apprehension that he would embarrass himself even further and potentially ruin the business opportunity laid out in front of him. Mr. Shelby must have thought of him as a complete fool, Oswald thought to himself, cringing at how jittery he was. He hadn't felt this flustered since before he confessed his feelings to Edward those years ago.

"I can assure you Mr. Shelby, I have heard nothing but great things about you" Oswald hummed, as he snapped his fingers to the waiter, insisting on a bottle of wine being brought to their table.

The waiter frantically rose from his seat at the bar to grab the fine bottle of red wine that Oswald had especially picked out for the occasion, trying his absolute best to impress Mr. Shelby. The waiter soon walked over to the two men's table and began poring the crimson liquid into two crystal glasses.

Tommy watched the wine flow with rhythm into his glass, as Oswald silently hoped that the other man did not disprove his choice of drink.

"I am more of a drinker of whisky or gin. But I must say this wine looks too expensive to not drink the fucking life out of it" Tommy joked, looking back up at Oswald.

He watched the candlelight warm the other man's face, highlighting the soft curves of his cheeks and the glimmer of his eyes. Tommy had to admit, that he had expected the all powerful and ruthless Penguin to appear anything but what the man in front of him appeared to be. He expected battle scars, a rugged and rough face from exaggerated expressions of anger and hatred. He expected Oswald to be much taller and larger in size, to be towering over Tommy. He had expected to feel nothing but intimidation and hesitancy once he greeted Mr. Cobblepot through the two large doors of the Iceberg Lounge. From all the stories and rumours he had heard of Oswald 'The Penguin' Cobblepot, he had expected the crime lord to greet him with nothing but hostility and analysis. 

What Tommy received when he did meet Oswald, was the absolute opposite. Though he had never opposed to the thought of a man being considered beautiful, he couldn't deny that Oswald was the sheer personification of the word. It took him a moment to realise that the angelic man that stood before him, dressed in feathery purples and velvety blacks was the notorious and murderous crime lord, The Penguin. It made Tommy all the more intrigued with Oswald, fascinated by how such a delicate man could cause such destruction and control.

Oswald was undeniably angelic. It seemed almost unfathomable that a man who appeared so pure and bashful held so much power in the foreign city.

"I can't help but agree" Oswald replied, quickly taking Tommy out of his thoughts.

Tommy noticed the visible blush that was brushed along Oswald's cheeks, undoubtedly from Tommy's staring. Thomas Shelby was a proud and confident man, and if he noticed something that deserved his praise or compliment, he wasn't afraid to do so.

"You are quite the pretty face Oswald, and here I was thinking I would come here and be met with a gun to my skull" Tommy smirked, his eyes reserved and looking down at his full glass.

He took a sip of the liquor, marvelling at its luxurious taste before glancing up, catching Oswald's reaction.

Oswald could feel his heart fluttering in his chest as his palms began to sweat once again. Here he was thinking that he couldn't have been more flustered.

"Oh, thank you Mr. Shelby" he replied politely, fluttering his eyelashes as he looked downwards in embarrassment.

Tommy took out another cigarette from his breast pocket, pausing for a moment before offering it to Oswald.

"You're allowed to smoke in your own club aren't ya?" he asked, charmingly.

Oswald took it gratefully, silently relieved that the tobacco smoke would help calm his nerves. Thomas held his lighter out for Oswald, lighting his cigarette for him before lighting his own.

The two men smoked their cigarettes and drank their wine as they began discussing business matters, like they had originally intended. Oswald had miraculously managed to calm his nerves as he grew more accustomed to Mr. Shelby. Though much of their business proposal such as their shares and what they would be offering each other had been discussed in letter and on the phone, the Englishman guided Oswald on how the gambling and horse racing business works. Besides all the mathematics and technical stuff that Michael had left him with through a pile of papers, Tommy instructed Oswald how to choose the horses who were to race, making sure to have an even number of champions and underdogs, and to hype up the winning chances of the horses who were sure to lose. His show of intelligence and experience reassured Oswald that he was making a deal with a man who was worth investing his trust in. Oswald couldn't help but confess how indebted to Thomas he felt, and that he would be honoured to represent the Shelby name in Gotham city if he so allowed. 

Soon enough, their waiter appeared at their table once again for both men's dinner orders.

"There isn't a menu Mr. Shelby, I was unsure of what you would have liked so please, ask for anything and my chef will be sure to prepare whatever you desire" Oswald smiled.

Tommy smiled at Oswald's thoughtfulness, "Well, in that case, I'll have a steak with vegetables. Call me sentimental but it reminds me of home with my wife".

Oswald's expression lowered slightly at the mention of a wife. There was still an entire world behind Thomas Shelby that Oswald had barely uncovered. All he knew was that he wanted to explore more of this mysterious, gorgeous man. 

"Uh, I'll just have salmon, he knows how I like it" Oswald told the waiter, as the slim man wrote down their orders and walked back towards the kitchen.

"I did not realise you have a wife Mr. Shelby" Oswald noted politely, gearing the conversation away from business into more personal territory. 

"I had a wife, Grace, a long time ago. She was taken from me by a bullet that was meant for my fucking brain" Thomas said regrettably, thinking over the haunted memory of Grace collapsing in his arms on the ballroom floor.

Oswald flinched at the hurt in Thomas' voice, apologetic for bringing up a pained memory of his past.

"I am so very sorry to hear that" Oswald replied earnestly, looking into Thomas' eyes to show he meant no harm by mentioning his wife.

"You didn't know, that was a long time ago anyway. I have been with other women since then. I also have a beautiful son, Charlie" Tommy mentioned, grateful to change the subject.

Oswald softened at the thought of Thomas being a father. Though he usually despised children, his relationship with Martin brought out a paternal instinct within himself that he figured he had in common with Thomas. 

"Children can be such treasures" he mused, being half truthful and half cringing at his own words. He knew he was trying too hard to win this man over, Zsasz's irritating words about "being yourself" rang through his ears. 

Tommy chuckled at the cliche in the other man's voice, but not entirely disagreeing.

"They deserve better than to be forced into the filth of the world we put them in" he replied.

Before Oswald could reply, the waiter handed the two men their skilfully prepared dishes and left them in peace.

Thomas quickly looked over his food before digging in and Oswald, in contrast could barely touch his salmon. He felt anything but hungry as he sat at a candlelit dinner with one of the most handsome men he had ever seen. As the act of eating brought the who men's conversation to a state of silence, Oswald could feel himself once again become flustered. He quickly downed the rest of his wine in an attempt to calm himself before boldly speaking.

"You appear as a man who carries himself with great control and pride, Mr Shelby, and yet you are charming and chivalrous" Oswald began, blushing once again at his own words. If he wanted to befriend this man, he figured had to take risks. 

"I must confess, you hold so many mysteries to me. You remind me of a man I once knew" Oswald professed. 

Tommy looked up from his meal, giving Oswald a charming smile. He could feel the wine mellowing his reticent exterior. Though he intended on this dinner meeting to be entirely about the business proposal, he could not help but enjoy the other man's company the longer he sat with him.

"I take it he was a good man then, if I am to be compared to him" Tommy replied with another smirk.

Oswald cast his gaze downward at the bittersweet mention of Edward.

"He was, once. But our history is a story for another time" he brushed off, not wishing to think about his old love further. 

"I'd like to hear it some day, it sounds interesting" Tommy suggested, feeling himself grow more interested in Oswald as he opened himself up.

"Oh, I don't know if I would call it that. It's a tale of unrequited love, heartbreak and revenge. One that I would prefer not to share, if that is okay" Oswald replied, his voice small as he could feel himself fall vulnerable to thoughts of his past.

"Your heart was broken by a man?" Tommy questioned, picking up on Oswald's mention of romance.

"Ye-yes, I fell in love with a man. I hope that isn't a problem?" Oswald asked with anxiety, worried that the sudden mention of his homosexuality may drive the other man away.

Thomas picked up on Oswald's anxiety, and flashed him a soft smile.

"Of course not. Well, this man must have been a fucking bastard if he willingly broke your heart aye?" he asked lightheartedly.

Oswald let out a laugh at that, shaking his head at Tommy's use of profanity to address Edward.

"Indeed" Oswald smiled, feeling himself relax once again.


End file.
